


many tricks and tools

by paravin



Series: last to see the light [12]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Sexual Harassment, Stupidity, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: Osiris sends Crow undercover to investigate the Cabal’s plans. Glint tags along.
Relationships: The Crow & Glint (Destiny)
Series: last to see the light [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180733
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30





	many tricks and tools

**Author's Note:**

> based on the below dialogue from last week’s seasonal quest:
> 
> Saladin, to the Guardian: “Osiris has sent Crow undercover to investigate their plans for the Vex prediction engines. We need you back on the front lines. The more you can draw their fire, the easier it’ll be for Crow to slip under the radar.”
> 
> this is dumb as hell, I’m so sorry
> 
> update: please look at [this incredible (and borderline nsfw) art](https://twitter.com/ayanae15/status/1368879164489674752) courtesy of [ayanae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayanae), I am dying

“Undercover?” Crow’s foot slides against the metal of the roof but he catches himself before Glint can call a warning. “You sure he said that?”

“I can read it again for you if you like?” Glint says. He puts on his best ‘dramatic warlock’ voice as he pulls up Osiris’ instructions. “Crow! You are to go undercover! In Firebase-”

“Okay, I get it,” Crow cuts in, but he’s smiling as he hauls himself the last few feet to the top of the Cabal base. He’s out of breath from the climb and Glint waits patiently by his shoulder as Crow pushes his hair out of his face and readjusts his hood. “Just when I was getting the hang of the whole reconnaissance gig.”

“This is like reconnaissance?” Glint offers. “It’s just a different kind of sneaky.”

“Hmm.” Crow looks down at himself doubtfully. “I’m not sure how Osiris expects me to pass for a Cabal.”

“I keep telling you that you should eat more,” Glint points out, and then adds before Crow can argue, “But Osiris gave me a disguise for you. Not as a Cabal.”

He rises up, flitting across the curved roof of the firebase as he scans for the precise location they need. 

Crow follows. “A psion then? They’re scrawnier at least.”

Glint makes a non-committal noise but bounces in the air when he finds the spot. “Here! You can change when we get down there.”

He shines his light at a spot on the metal and Crow obediently stands in the center of it. “You sure this transmat glitch will work?”

Glint thinks about explaining, for the third time, the detailed mechanics of the Cabal’s security fields and how by transmatting directly downwards they can fool the system into dismissing their presence as an error in the layering software. He then decides life is too short.

“The transmat glitch will work,” he promises. “Ophiuchus sent me extensive testing data from Ikora’s Hidden.”

He doesn’t mention the step-by-step instructional videos. It’s important he maintains some mystery.

The transmat fires. Glint feels the shimmer of the Cabal field around them as they descend, incorporeal, into the base, and when they reconstitute in the darkness of a maintenance closet, he spins in relief at the lack of alarms. “See! I told you it would work.”

Music trickles through the door and Crow frowns in confusion. “This is their break room?”

“Just for the officers.” Glint skims through the reports Osiris attached to the briefing. “Think of it like the Empty Tank on the Shore, except with better drinks and less murder.”

There’s a roar and a thump outside. 

“Maybe the same amount of murder,” he amends. 

“So I just hang out in disguise and eavesdrop on their conversations?” Crow whispers. Glint’s pretty sure he’s remembering how long he had to spend in a very hot air vent during his last reconnaissance operation when he says, “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“The Guardian’s on deck to provide distractions and get the officers back out into the field whenever you need it,” Glint says. “They said they ‘packed a lot of grenade launchers’.”

Crow grins at that. “I’d expect nothing less. All right, let’s get out there. Where’s that disguise Osiris gave you?”

Rummaging through his stores, Glint readies the change of clothes. It took him a while to get the hang of this but thanks to some lessons from the ghosts at the Tower, he transmats Crow’s armor into storage with ease and replaces it instantly with the designated disguise. 

“Glint.” Crow’s voice is strained. “What am I wearing?”

“It’s a uniform!” 

Crow stares at him and he elaborates, “Osiris’ reports said that the Cabal have some non-Cabal people working for them here. As kitchen staff and janitors, jobs like that.” He bobs, awkward. “And waiters. In their bar.”

Crow arches an eyebrow, and Glint beeps in apology when he looks over Crow’s disguise again. It’s not a _bad_ outfit, at least in terms of quality, but between the very tight shirt and the very short shorts, it’s a little more revealing than Glint expected. 

“Maybe they’re just concerned about weapons?” he tries. “They want to make sure people aren’t hiding anything.”

Crow’s cheeks flush with embarrassment as he tugs the legs of the shorts down as far as they’ll go. (It’s not far.) 

He points a finger at Glint as he moves to the door. “Do not tell anyone about this. Especially not the Guardian. Or Holliday.”

“My lips are sealed!” Glint promises. “Or they would be, if I had lips.” 

He blinks in and out of existence as he shifts to his own disguise, a cramped shell in the shape of a radio. “You should see what they have the Eliksni wear…”

Crow smirks a little at that, and Glint hooks himself securely through a loop on Crow’s hip as he readies himself for the mission ahead. He tries very hard not to form opinions on Crow’s legs in those shorts.

A wall of noise hits them as they step out into the bar. Any concerns about Crow seeming out of place are allayed when he barely makes it two steps before a tall exo shoves a serving tray into his hands and rebukes him for being late, and Glint concentrates on surveying the room as Crow is loaded up with drinks.

The place is busier than he expected, with almost every table filled with centurions and commanders talking loudly over drinks and plates of food. Most of the conversation sounds like a furious prelude to a fistfight but once he attunes to the language, he’s relieved that it’s just the Cabal version of friendly small-talk. 

Everything is Cabal-sized, with some of the tables coming up to Crow’s chest, and Glint can’t help but feel very tiny as Crow sets giant mugs of orange liquid in front of a pair of colossi.

 _Can’t say I missed this,_ Crow mutters.

His voice comes clearly enough through their connection, even as he keeps a neutral expression on his face, and Glint sends a pulse of sympathy back. He’d hoped this would be different enough from the Shore to avoid stirring up too many bad memories but as Crow is waylaid by a gruff valus, it’s hard to ignore the similiarities to being at Spider’s beck and call.

 _I’m sorry,_ Glint whispers back, voice echoing inside their shared light. _I can transmat you out any time. Just say the word._

(Sure, a transmat from here will trip every alarm in the base but Glint has his priorities.)

 _It’s fine,_ Crow says, and seems to mean it. _We’re here to get information, right?_ He stumbles a little when the valus gives him a slap on the back with one meaty hand, but he keeps his balance. _Anyone in particular I should be listening to?_

Glint hums as he dives back into the tangle of noise. Most of it seems to be idle chatter, comparing battle prowess or bragging about their war beasts, but he filters it down when he catches the name of Ixel, the Far-Reaching.

 _Your eight o’clock,_ he says. _One psion and one Cabal commander. They mentioned the name of the psion leader on Nessus._

Crow’s smart enough not to make a beeline over there. He takes it slow, ferrying platters of food and drink between the bar and the tables, until his route finally takes him close to the booth where the two are deep in conversation. 

_The psion is saying Ixel took some of her best men on a ‘foolish crusade’,_ Glint translates. 

Crow nods. _I think the commander said that she’s cowardly? Proving herself through tricks instead of in battle?_

 _It’s ‘schemes’ more than ‘tricks’,_ Glint corrects, _but your Ulurant is getting much better to pick up all that._ He wiggles against Crow’s hip, impressed. _I knew you were a quick learner!_

Crow’s response is a feeling rather than a word, a jumble of proud and bashful, and Glint does his best to nudge him towards pride.

They pick up more snippets on each pass and Glint feeds the raw data back through to the Vanguard as they go. With the distraction of information to gather, Crow moves with ease through the bar, offering polite smiles to the patrons as he and Glint sift through the relevant conversations. 

However, after a brief collision with a dreg (who Glint is sure was on his way to steal Crow’s tips), their attention is caught by a shout from a centurion. “You! New one!”

The words are rough in his mouth, his voice not accustomed to the language, and Glint clarifies, _I think he means—_

 _Me,_ Crow murmurs. _I figured._

Glint feels the dread coil through him as he makes his way cautiously through the patrons. The centurion is battle-worn even for a Cabal, with a deep scar running over his left eye, and Glint briefly fantasises about giving him a matching one on his right when he grips Crow’s arm and hauls him in close. 

Glint can’t distinguish his own nerves from Crow’s. He picks up the unit name from the centurion’s armor, and sends a panicked transmission out as the centurion looks Crow over, face close enough to sniff at him with interest. 

“D-Did you want a drink, sir?” Crow stammers. 

His Ulurant is decent enough, but his hands curls into helpless fists when the centurion just laughs and slaps greedily at Crow’s thigh. 

Glint sends out a wordless question through his light. He gets a wordless denial from Crow in response but itches to fire the transmat anyway. He’s very tired of people putting unwanted hands on his Guardian.

The slap turns to a grope but before the centurion can pull Crow in any closer, there’s a low rumble from somewhere higher up in the base. 

The chatter in the bar quietens as heads turn upward, and Glint resists the urge to spin with glee when a message crackles through the centurion’s comms. Something about a ‘rampaging Guardian’ with ‘so many grenade launchers’.

With a snarl, the centurion shoves Crow away and barges out of the room, radioing a message back to his men. 

Crow exhales with relief, catching himself on the table, and Glint asks softly, _You sure you don’t want to get out of here now? We got some good information._

 _We got fragments,_ Crow says. _We need more._

His tone is determined but he reaches down to brush Glint’s casing anyway in reassurance. It feels strange without his normal shell, like Crow’s fingers are closer but somehow more distant at the same time, but Glint basks in the touch anyway. 

Being undercover is far less fun than he thought it would be.

Although the sound of grenades continues in the background, the chatter gradually resumes and Crow winds his way back over with a fresh round of drinks for the psion and the commander. 

There’s something different in his posture this time, an extra layer of confidence despite the tension Glint can feel underneath, and Glint’s eye widens when, after depositing the drinks on the table, Crow’s hand lingers on the commander’s arm for a second too long.

He didn’t know Cabal could blush.

Crow holds his gaze for a moment before lowering his head, subservient. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

 _Are you flirting?!_ Glint hisses.

Crow’s smile doesn’t waver. _Shush._

Already well-stocked on food and drink, the commander glances around the table before gesturing to a barely noticeable smear on the wood. “This place is filthy,” he barks. “Clean it up.”

Based on the gentle snigger from the psion, the commander is about as smooth as Crow. Glint quietly despairs when Crow just bows. “Of course, sir.”

He turns, hurrying back over to the bar to retrieve a rag from a bemused vandal, and Glint tries to not to sound as judgmental as he feels when he says, _Really? You jumped straight to flirting?_

 _You did see what I’m wearing, right?_ Crow counters. _Anyway, it’s working, isn’t it?_

Glint scowls. _That isn’t a good thing!_

Crow scritches the top of his casing as he teases, _Don’t worry, I’ll be all yours again as soon as we get out of here._ He squares his shoulders as he heads back over to the commander. _I just need an excuse to stay close to him for a while._

Glint considers this. _I suppose it would be easier to overhear his conversation if you’re on his lap._

He can feel Crow fight to keep a straight face. _I am not sitting on anyone’s lap. Just focus on translating, okay?_

As much as Glint hates to admit it, the plan does seem to be working. The psion and commander are deep in conversation again when Crow returns, and while the commander does trail off to admire Crow’s ass as he leans over to scrub the table, the psion talks quietly throughout. 

“-against their leader.”

“She would never,” the commander says. “My brother was there for the negotiations, with their captain and the bird man. He told me Caiatl will handle this with honor. We will not sacrifice our pride as well as our homeworld.”

“Apparently Ixel didn’t get that message,” the psion says, voice lowering. “She was tinkering with some kind of new tech. A leftover from Ghaul’s crusade.”

Glint watches the commander lean to spit on the floor on the mention of Ghaul’s name but then think better of it when Crow looks up at him innocently. 

He coughs instead. “If she thinks that will win her Caiatl’s favor, she’s mistaken.”

The psion shrugs. “She’s determined. I heard she’s even working on infiltrating their city. ‘A strike at the heart’ or something like that.”

Crow’s flinch is almost imperceptible but Glint reaches out to calm him through their connection anyway. _We’ll stop it._

The commander snorts. “Because that worked so well the last time.” He shakes his head. “Those soldiers of theirs are like roaches. Scurrying back no matter how many times we crush them.”

“My friend said Ixel’s seen a future where it works,” the psion insists. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky.” Her mouth twitches in a smirk as she looks between the commander and Crow. “Or maybe it’s just you who’s hoping to get lucky, hmm?”

“I don’t- That’s not-” the commander splutters. 

Glint feels Crow smile as he stands back up. “Was there anything else, _sir_?”

Glint groans internally but the commander just shakes his head. “Dismissed.”

“Dismissed?” the psion echoes with a snigger. “What, is he a legionary now?”

“Kazal, I swear on Torobatl, if you don’t-”

Crow glides away before Glint can hear the end of the commander’s threat. 

Crow’s heart is pounding and Glint sends a pulse of soothing light between them as he murmurs, _Let’s get out of here. Osiris will want to know what we found._

Crow nods. He heads straight back to the maintenance closet, ignoring the complaint from the exo overseer on the way, and Glint plots a path directly up through the security grid before firing the transmat.

The roof is quiet and freezing compared to the humid noise of the bar, and Glint dives happily back into his usual shell before swooping around in triumph “We made it!”

Somehow Crow’s outfit looks even worse in the daylight and he gives Glint a sheepish smile as he gestures down at himself. “Any time today, buddy.”

“Right!” Glint chirps. “Sorry.”

His normal armor is back in an instant. Glint thinks about discarding the uniform but stores it away instead, just in case Crow needs to flirt with anyone else for mission critical information. It could happen.

For his part, Crow sighs in relief as he adjusts his gauntlets and hood. “Do you think Osiris will let me veto any future missions involving shorts?”

“Nope,” Glint says honestly. “Especially not when this one was so successful.”

Crow’s smile fades and Glint adds, “I already send the recordings to the HELM. Commander Zavala will be okay; I’m sure we got enough information to stop them.”

“I hope so,” Crow says. “The Guardian was following up on some leads too. Between the two of us, maybe we can—”

From beneath the base, they hear the sound of explosions. Glint floats at Crow’s shoulder as they peer over the edge at where the Guardian is spinning in celebratory circles on their sparrow as flames engulf a Cabal thresher.

“I think they’ve got this,” Glint says cheerfully. He bumps his shell against Crow’s arm. “Let’s get back. It’s important to add the flirting into the mission report.”

Crow’s eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare—”

The transmat fires before he can finish, and Glint beams as they vanish back to their ship. 

He isn’t sure he’d want to do this full time, but he decides maybe undercover missions aren’t so bad after all.


End file.
